CHRYSALIS

5.

It's been two weeks since that awkward night with Santana and I've only seen him once. That was only because I dropped Frankie off at their apartment, he said a quick hello and bolted for his room. He's full-on avoiding me at this point and it's giving me wicked anxiety.

I've seen Frankie a handful of times and nothing has seemed weird there but my brain is convincing me that Frankie will pull away from me too. It's telling me that they all think I'm a horrible person and they're going to think I lead Santy on just to hurt him and that couldn't be farther from my intention.

My brain tells me lots of horrible things but the thought of losing the only friends I have here over one stupid night is enough to cripple me for days.

I called out of work yesterday and today, told them I felt like I was coming down with something when in reality I can't get myself out of bed.

I got up earlier to eat some toast and physically cringed at my reflection as I passed each mirror.

My hair is extra lifeless, my waves are fizzy and matted down in the back, my skin is dull and lifeless, desperate for hydration. My eyes are tired and my shoulders slump like they've given up. I've been in the same t-shirt for 72 hours now, it's an oversized black tee with a bright graphic of one direction that makes them look like a heavy metal band, it's like a security blanket at this point. It looks just wonderful will my grey sleep shorts and mismatched fuzzy socks.

I've been reading for hours, using it as a way to disassociate from my current reality and the anxiety it brings me. My body is aching and my eyes burn, but it's better than the alternative.

Nicki knows better than to interfere in episodes such as this, she just leaves fresh ice water on my table and drops off a snack or two throughout the day. She takes good care of me.

I'm at the end of a particularly enthralling chapter when my ears are assaulted by the shrill ringing of my cell phone. I'm quite set on ignoring it until the responsible section of my brain pipes up.

It could be an emergency, what if Dad got himself hospitalized and you don't answer the damn phone?

Begrudgingly I dog-ear my page and stretch my arm as far as I can to slide my phone over to me.

"Hello?" I can hear how dull my voice sounds but I can't be bothered to care.

"Hey dollface, whatcha doin?" Tony sounds far too chipper for my current mindset.

"Oh nothing much, why? What's up? Wait, who's phone are you calling me from?" I realize that the number wasn't saved, which is why I answered it in the first place. As much as I adore Tony, I probably wouldn't have picked up his call.

"I'm with a friend and my phone went to shit on me. Hey listen, I've got a last-minute gig tonight and they asked if you were available to assist."

"Huh? Who asked?" I'm very confused at the thought of anyone asking for me to assist since it's rare for Tony's clients to even know my name.

"Come on Jo, keep up dollface. The client asked if you were available to assist on the shoot. It's a promo shoot for an interview coming up. Very cool stuff, a very big opportunity. I need to go, but if you're coming I need you to meet me at the studio in 2 hours. So, you coming?" He is speaking so fast I can barely understand him, my mouth answering before my brain can catch up.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be there." He says a quick goodbye and texts me the address, it's 30 minutes away but with traffic, I'll need to leave at least 20 minutes of extra time...which leaves me an hour.

I'm fucked. How the fuck am I supposed to look presentable in an HOUR!? shit shit shit.

I have no time to waste but I still groan as I pull the covers off of me and drag my feet to the bathroom.